


You Threw Your Hair Back and Sang Along

by dynamicsymmetry



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Awkwardness, F/M, First Time, Mutual Masturbation, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-14
Updated: 2015-04-14
Packaged: 2018-03-22 23:46:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3747610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dynamicsymmetry/pseuds/dynamicsymmetry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some precious spare time, even more precious privacy, and an impulse in just the right direction. But Beth has a slightly surprising request, and Daryl's not sure he can handle it. (spoiler alert: he totally can)</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Threw Your Hair Back and Sang Along

**Author's Note:**

> This is established relationship, purposefully _very_ fuzzy chronology, in my own head sorta post-ASZ in that no one gets to have anything nice and the group is on the run again because we all know they will be, but read this according to your own preferences.
> 
> Title from [here.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z629Tqd7qas)
> 
> (ps: up to your interpretation regarding whether Beth is being completely truthful here about her experience _handling_ certain things. because weeeeeeeeeeeeeell)

"Show me."  
  
Daryl freezes up.  
  
It's not the first time, but this is a very awkward time to be doing that, when this is still massively, almost painfully new, when it turns out that when he starts thinking about her like this and _seeing_ her like this he can’t stand how much he wants her, when they don't have a lot of time and they've sequestered themselves in one of the smaller and more removed bedrooms in this house in which they've all bedded down for another uncomfortable night - because _sooner or later they always run_ \- and especially when he's leaning over her and they're both naked and she's thrown into a pool of moonlight and _fuck,_ she is so beautiful and he wants her so bad.  
  
And her legs are already spread and she's pushing herself up, clearly ready for him, reaching between them and curling her fingers around his cock, and he drops his head between his shoulders and lets out a broken moan - fuck, _be quiet,_ because Maggie knows, everyone knows by now, but still, still - and she stops him and says _Show me._  
  
Show her _what?_  
  
It was like they both fell into sync as soon as they all finished locking things down. They haven't done this. They haven't actually done much of anything. Kissed, sure - tentative, and he's still afraid of not making her happy, not being enough somehow - and he's slid his hands under her shirt and actually _fumbled_ at her like a fucking teenager copping his first feel, but she's arched and pressed against him and moaned anyway, and it's been good. She's had her hand between his legs, trying to squeeze him through his pants, and that was so good too. But they've been holding back when it comes to pretty much everything else. Being careful. This feels like something delicate.  
  
That's how beginnings are.  
  
Except suddenly neither of them wanted to wait anymore.  
  
He's sure everyone else guessed why they split off and came up here. Doesn't matter. It was clumsy and too fast when they stripped each other, barely time for even looking at all this new, exposed territory, because there's such a sharp _need_ about this. Throwing themselves at each other. Hard. Even desperate.  
  
There's a mattress and it doesn't look all that gross. Not gross at all, really. He pushed her down onto it, deep in the space between gentle and rough. It's been so long but he's pretty certain he'll remember what's involved.  
  
But now, just as he's aching to grab her by the thighs and the hips and bury himself inside her, she stops him and says _that_.  
  
And what the _fuck?_  
  
He stares down at her, baffled. "What?"  
  
She slides her fingers up and down his shaft, and there's something about it that's almost exploratory. His eyelids flutter and the breath that slips out of him is ragged around the edges.  
  
"I never..." She smiles hesitantly, and he already knows what she means and he freezes up even worse. _Oh no._ "I never did this before. Any of it." She squeezes him, and it's _so fucking good_ but it's also clumsy like she really honestly never has. Why the hell would she lie? "Show me what you do. With yourself." She catches her lower lip between her teeth, and he wonders if she has any idea what that does to him. "Please?"  
  
He blinks at her. He wasn't ready for that. At all. He wasn’t ready to be _her first_ but whatever, he wasn’t ready for any of this and he knows she won’t care, is sure she just wants him, and maybe later he’ll _really_ freak out about it but right now there’s a whole different _never_ doing that job.  
  
He's never... Maybe she's _never,_ but this is a whole new and slightly twisted version of that game, and she's caught him in a round. He's never done that in front of anyone. Never touched himself. Why the fuck would he? Sure as shit no one has ever asked.  
  
"Please," she whispers again, and combs her other hand through his hair. He almost whimpers. He can't deny her anything. It's weird and he has no idea how the fuck he feels about it, but there is no _way_ he can say no to her anymore.  
  
Never could.  
  
He pushes back from her, on his knees, but he makes no move - yet - to do what she asked. He's still just staring at her - pristine and pure in that light, like fucking marble, like a sculptor's masterpiece, and he knows that's cliché but it's all that fits - and he needs to understand this at least a little.  
  
"How come?"  
  
"I just wanna know."  
  
She's pushing herself up too, thighs still parted, her breasts soft little swelling curves that look like they would fit his palms as if they were made for it, nipples small and hard and suddenly he feels like they're begging for his fingers, his lips. He was going to fuck her so fast and suddenly now he wants to take all the time in the world. Time they don't have.  
  
She smiles again. "I wanna know how to touch you."  
  
This is awful. This is not what he signed on for.  
  
_Oh yes, it fucking is._  
  
He swallows.  
  
"Alright."  
  
He wonders if there's actually anything here she could ask him to do that he'd say no to.  
  
He sits back a little. Feels even more awkward than he did. This is something he never had to think about, because it wasn't _about_ thinking. Was just about doing. Getting off, going on with his life. Nothing with any other reason. She wants to see this. Should he be concerned with what it looks like?  
  
He lowers his hand, looks down. It's easier, maybe, not to see her right now.  
  
He closes his eyes and takes his cock in his hand.  
  
It feels different. The sensation is sharper, hotter - just that little bit of pressure and friction. He feels its weight, feels his own heat. He wonders how this looks, what she's actually seeing.  
  
He never thought of himself from the outside. Not really.  
  
He takes a breath and squeezes a little, strokes down to the base and up, pushes his foreskin over the head and slides back down again.  
  
She takes her own breath. Soft, pulling it in, and he can't read it and he still can't look at her. It feels good, when he gives himself another slow stroke, but he's so distracted. Observing himself with double vision. This isn't even how he really does it; he _never_ starts this slow. He always dives in, gets out as quickly as possible for a variety of reasons. Masturbation as a military operation. Insertion, do the job, extraction.  
  
She wants to see and this is not the actual thing.  
  
But maybe this feels a little bit more real. Somehow.  
  
He moves a little faster, squeezes a little more. Pressure and friction. He can hear his own breathing so oddly loud in the center of his head, rougher and shallower. Without realizing it until he does it, he leans back, braces himself up with one hand, knees bent. She can see him better this way. He's rocking his hips just a bit, meeting his own hand, his own downward slide. And she's still there - he wouldn't be conscious at all of how to show her more if he wasn't aware of her - but she's also kind of _not._  
  
He's feeling himself. Feeling what he can give himself. This pleasure, this focus, soft waves of it lapping against him. The sound that escapes him is perilously close to a groan.  
  
"Daryl," she murmurs, and heat stabs into him so hard he gasps.  
  
Okay. Yeah. He likes this. This is still very fucking weird but he's also caring less and less, because it's _good._ Good in a different way than he thought fucking her might be, even if he imagined fucking her would be pretty mindblowing in and of itself. He's sure it will be, it _will_ be, but this isn't a detour anymore, this isn't a distraction - he's fucking his own fist now, lost in it, letting go of himself long enough to spit into his hand, little extra slickness and falling back into it.  
  
She's there. He knows she's there. Watching him. His face twists and it feels like a grimace, almost like pain, and he's getting rough with himself as his lips part and he breathes _Beth._  
  
_Fuck, Beth._  
  
"Oh my God," she whispers, and she sounds wondering, and that's when he opens his eyes. Courage, curiosity, or he just has to see her, has to know what this is doing to her-  
  
What it's doing to her is that she's a lot closer to him, her legs actually overlaying his, knees bent and feet braced on the floor as she leans back on one hand, like him - how the _fuck_ did he miss her moving in like this? - and her other hand is between her thighs, two fingers pushing into her cunt with a soft, wet noise.  
  
His mouth drops open and he _does_ whimper, because what the fuck else is he supposed to do?  
  
_Fucking hell_.  
  
She's looking at him. All of him. Staring at his hand, at his cock, eyes huge and glowing where the moonlight hits them and eating him up. Rising to meet his gaze, and he shudders. It's like she's seized him. Pinned him. All he can do is what she told him to do.  
  
Not that he wants to do anything else.  
  
Everything is gone. The house, the people downstairs, whatever the fuck they think about this, the dead shuffling around outside, the broken world all around them - it's just them and his panting and her hard little exhales that dart toward moans. Fingers sliding over her clit, pressing and circling, back in her cunt to slick themselves. He wants to do that with his mouth, suck her cream off her fingers, lick at her until she can't take it, fuck her with his tongue, everything he thought they would never have time for in a place like this, but right now there's just his hand and her hand, moving faster, and without meaning to he's edging closer to her.  
  
Almost grazing her hand with his.  
  
"Daryl." She's rolling her hips up like his, almost in time with his, fucking herself and stroking herself and fucking again like she can't decide which feels better. "Daryl, Daryl, oh _God..._ "  
  
He had no idea. He had no _idea_. She hasn't even had him inside her yet but she already has all of him. And he feels like he's as deep in her as he can go.  
  
Her gaze is locked on his hand again and he loves that. Fucking loves it. Can tell she does too. "You're goin' so fast," she breathes, strained and astonished. "I didn't think... You're so rough, oh my God, Daryl-" His name gets dragged into another moan and her eyes half close, half roll up so only the whites show, and her fingers are working furiously at her clit and they're all he wants to see.    
  
"C'mon, Beth." He doesn't even know what he's telling her, and then abruptly he does. "Beth, come for me. You fuckin' come, _Jesus-_ "  
  
She sucks in a harsh wine, almost bucking up with her hips now. Chasing it. He's so fucking close but he can't until she does. He spits into his hand again, bares his teeth, shoves himself in on her. Practically knocking her knuckles with his. "Do it, Beth, c'mon."  
  
"Daryl... Daryl, _yeah..._ " Lunging at a moan that becomes another whine that becomes a strangled little cry as her head snaps back and a shudder grips her, shakes her, every muscle taut and releasing and taut again. Fingers leaving her clit and plunging into her cunt, moving so hard and fast he can't believe she isn't hurting herself. In the moonlight that falls across her he catches sight of her face twisting and it's the most beautiful thing he's ever fucking seen.  
  
So beautiful he forgets himself. For a moment.  
  
Then it's like it flows from her into him and he groans sharp and deep, the same shudder and same tense-release, and when it spills out of him it's on his hand but also hers, her cunt, both of them, and she grabs hold of him with slick fingers and jerks him through it.  
  
And she doesn't feel clumsy at _all._  
  
He has no idea when it ends. Feels like it goes on twice as long as usual. He just knows that at some point he's reaching for her, pulling her in and against him, arms around her. She's boneless but she finds enough muscle tension to curl into his embrace, breathing so hard, still shaking with the aftershocks.  
  
He runs his clean hand over her back, lowers them both down, dropping fast enough that he's grateful for the mattress. It squeaks with shitty springs and he almost laughs; it must have been doing that this whole time but he didn't hear it.  
  
He was distracted.  
  
"Jesus fuckin' _Christ,_ Beth." He smiles loosely against her brow, wider than he's smiled in such a long time. He feels warm and floaty. When the fuck did he last come like that? Has he _ever_ come like that? Didn't even fuck her. Hasn't even gotten to that yet.  
  
She saw him. No one has ever seen him.  
  
He finds her wrist and tugs her hand up, presses her sticky fingers to his mouth, and doesn't second-guess himself as he slips them past his lips and begins to clean them with his tongue.  
  
Her come and his own. Mingling. Salty-sweet and a little bitter. This feels absolutely filthy.  
  
It feels absolutely wonderful.  
  
"Daryl." Breathless, hardly there, but he can hear her smiling as she pushes her fingers deeper and he sucks at them.  
  
There are so many things they can do together. If they can find the space. If they can find the time. He would fight for it. Protect it. He _needs_ it, and he didn't know he needed it like this. He needs _her._ He needs everything about her. He wants her to see him. He wants her to see everything. He's not brave enough, not yet, but he'll try. Give her every part of himself. Even the parts he didn't know were there.  
  
He holds her for a while and she holds onto him, tangling their legs, and now and then she still trembles and it's the best thing. It's so good. He didn't do that to her... Except he did.  
  
They did this to each other. _For_ each other. This wasn't fucking, but it was. It all is. Or it could be. There might be so many more ways to do it than he ever imagined.  
  
"Beth," he whispers. He can't get past her name, but her name is everything.  
  
"We didn't-" she sighs, but she doesn't sound disappointed. He cups her face and tilts it just-so and presses a slow kiss to her brow. Her mouth. Letting her taste both of them on his lips.  
  
"Next time. Alright?"  
  
_Next time._


End file.
